


The Willow Which Would Not Weep

by Maze316



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Non-Chronological, she and wilson have adoptive sibling energy, some depictions of bullying, willow's backstory babey!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:07:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22232269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maze316/pseuds/Maze316
Summary: The orphan, the firestarter, the girl scout. How did it all begin? What memories lie in the mind of young Willow? How many of them followed her here?
Kudos: 11





	The Willow Which Would Not Weep

They called her Hollow. The girl whose wide eyes opened into a husk. The windows of her soul were covered in soot. So it seemed.

“Who wants to light the campfire?” asked the Senior Scout.

The girl raised her hand before the question had left her mouth.

“Willow? Wonderful! Remember what we taught you?”

She nodded vigorously.

“Alright! I have matches just in case.”

“I won’t need them,” Willow stated. She kneeled down before the structure. It had already been constructed. Logs with manes of jagged splinters laid among each other. Dead, dry grass sat on top like a cheap toupée. Her fingers tingled with excitement. She blindly grasped for a stick and found one just the right size.

Her eyes focused on the kindling before her. She felt her heart gallop in her chest. She found a notch between some small sticks. She adjusted the stick before her palms and took a deep breath. Her palms rolled and she spun and spun and spun and spun. Embers reflected from her gaping eyes. The grass kindled, and the wood smouldered. 

“Good job, Willow! You did great!”

“Thanks,” Willow breathed. She watched as the fire slowly grew.

“Freak,” a hushed voice said behind her.

Willow didn’t hear. The crackle of the fire had already consumed her. 

\- - -

The last thing she remembered before she fell asleep was the warm embrace of velvet snow. The greedy, cold blanket granted her mercy at last. It was warm, so warm. She snuggled into the softness of it. At last, the cold was gone.

She woke up to voices. Hushed, frantic tones. Her senses danced, as if intoxicated. She was still warm, almost too much so, but she still found herself shivering. 

She blinked the blur from her eyes. Orange light licked the darkness around it. Fire. Life. She tried to reach out toward it. Her muscles strained. Her hands trembled. Inch by inch, she grasped at the fire.

An involuntary chirp made its way from her throat. The flames sweetly kissed her hands. It melted her frozen joints as she crawled closer and closer to its nest.

_ “She’s waking up,” _ one of the voices said.

_ “Oh, thank the Lord,” _ said another.

_ “I didn’t think the poor thing was going to make it.” _

_ “You couldn’t have gotten her here a minute less.” _

_ “The doctor should be here at any minute. Let me go talk to her.” _

Footsteps shook the wood floor beneath her. It dawned on her that she had been sandwiched between towels and threadbare blankets. She wore a nightgown and socks which reached up to her knees. She couldn’t place the smell of the musty air she breathed.

“Hi, sweetheart,” said a voice behind her. She turned her head. A tall, gangly woman with enormous eyes looked down at her. “My name’s Meredith.” 

Willow blinked again, and realized the eyes were just large spectacles. She studied the woman’s face.

“You gave us a real big scare. Do you know where you are?”

Willow shook her head no.

“You’re at an orphanage. Do you know where your parents are?”

Willow stared at her.

“Do you have parents, or a guardian? A grandma? An aunt?”

Willow shook her head.

“Ah. I see. What’s your name, honey?”

Willow’s throat cracked as she spoke.

“Willow.”

\- - -

“Alright, ladies! Line up!” 

The residents of the girl’s wing perked up. Two people entered through the doors: the shorter matron, and an unfamiliar face. They jumped out of bed and filed themselves into a line.

“We have a visitor!” Smiled Freda once they were settled. She gestured up toward the teenager beside her. “This is miss May Wheeler. You can all call her Miss. Wheeler. Say hello.”

“Hello, Miss Wheeler,” said the girls in unison.

“Why don’t you explain what you’re doing here?” Freda asked. 

“I’m a Girl Scout!” May said. “A senior scout, to be precise. And we’re looking for more girls to join our troop!” Willow swore her curly hair fluffed up more and more with her rising enthusiasm. Her uniform was khaki, with a pin shining off the tie around her neck. She held a wide-brimmed hat, and a rucksack hung off her back.

“I made an agreement with the local group, so you girls can learn yourselves some skills. Make you seem more valuable to potential parents,” Freda said.  


May’s smiling face resisted a grimace. “We teach young girls life skills! As our motto goes: ‘Be prepared!’”

“Right, yes, be prepared. You girls go outside. Miss Wheeler has some things she would like to show you all.”

Without another word, the girls hurried outside. They bunched together and chattered in excitement. May followed not far after, and she reached out to take a number of supplies out of her rucksack.

Willow, meanwhile, found herself more interested in the dying grass around a tree. She kneeled down and pulled it from the earth. She made a little pile. She imagined being able to light the small campfire, like how she’d seen in books. She added more and more to the tiny stack before something caught her eye. The visitor. Within a blink, she scattered the dry blades before the girl scout got too close. 

“Hey,” May said. She crossed her legs and plopped down onto the grass next to Willow. “What’s your name?”

“Willow.”

“That’s a lovely name.”

May barely caught Willow’s subtle smile.

“It’s the name of a tree, isn’t it?” 

Willow nodded.

“Did you know that the bark of willow trees can be used in medication? You’ve heard of aspirin, haven’t you?”

Another nod.

“Willow trees are very important! They’ve relieved pain, and even saved lives!”

“Where did you learn that?” Willow asked.

“Well, at Girl Scouts, of course! You learn all types of cool things about nature. I think you’d fit right in.”

Willow looked at the grass beneath her. May let out a sigh.

“You know, when I was your age, I didn’t have a lot of friends.”

Willow perked up to listen.

“I was so in love with the idea of adventure! At school, I’d run around exploring! And at home, I wandered farther in the woods than any of the other kids. I was braver than them. In hindsight, maybe I’m lucky nothing bad ever happened to me.” She paused. “But! When I became a Daisy, I finally had a chance to adventure with others. Even made a few friends.”

“Really?”

“Really.” May pulled her rucksack from behind her back. “You know who kept me company before then?” 

Willow tilted her head curiously.

“A little guy just like this.” From the bag, May pulled out a teddy bear. It was in pristine condition, aside from the fine fur which had been pressed down every which way in the bag. “We had a lot of adventures together. I found a bear just like him at the store, and thought… He looks like he could have some adventures of his own.” She propped the bear up in front of Willow. 

Her mouth gaping slightly, Willow examined the bear. Then, touched it. She rubbed her thumb against his velvet fabric. Her eyes peered into his black buttons. 

She held him close against her chest.

“Aw, see? Fast friends.” May laughed. “Now, don’t worry, Willow. No matter what, that little guy will be with you. The best companion a girl could have.”

“Thank you, Miss Wheeler.”

“That’s May to you, my dear.”

\- - -

“That’s her? Willow?” 

“That’s the one. Cutiepie, isn’t she?”

Meredith smiled at the couple before her. She pawed at her curly hair. It wasn’t often perspective parents came — first impressions were paramount.

“Oh, she looks like the little girl I’ve been dreaming of,” said the wife.

“She’s pretty adorable, I have to give her that,” said the husband.

Willow crouched in the grass. It was spring, and her spirits fresh and bright as the world around her. She held a magnifying glass. With wide, curious eyes, she investigated her small patch of life.

“Curious, too.”

“I bet she’d be good in school.”

“Oh, look! Here comes Billy,” Meredith pointed out.

A boy her age approached Willow. They were too far to hear their exchange, but they saw Willow smile at first. Billy rocked back and forth on his toes, his hands clasped behind his back. After a few moments, he revealed his gift: a wild flower, white and pure. 

“How darling,” the wife cooed.

Willow took the flower from him, smiling wider. She skipped to the pavement near, Billy following close. She set the flower on the asphalt with a pat. She focused her magnifying glass onto its petals.

“Why — she’s set it aflame!” the husband exclaimed.

Billy protested. Willow’s smile fell. He picked up the flower and blew on the small embers. It was too late; it had been soiled. With wild gestures, he explained something to her.

“Ew!” Willow said loud enough for the adults to hear. She grabbed the smouldering flower from his hands and scurried off. Billy started to cry.

“Already a heartbreaker, eh?” Meredith asked. “Don’t have to worry about her fooling around.”

The couple glanced at each other.

“Why don’t you introduce us to some of the other children?” the husband asked.

“Yes,” the wife agreed, “It wouldn’t hurt to meet some of the others.”

On the other side of the play area, Willow could be seen hunched over with her magnifying glass. Freda stomped up to her. The glass and the flower were quickly confiscated. Willow glared at the crying boy across the yard.

\- - -

Wilson P. Higgsbury awoke to noises from the ground floor. He peeled his cheek from his desk. Beside him, a beaker stirred away on a magnetic device. Right. His reaction. He looked into the cloudy precipitate just before something clattered. 

He jumped. He quickly eyed the beaker, making sure nothing had changed. What was that? He heard rummaging. A weapon? He glanced around, his hands starting to shake. His glassware glinted in the moonlight. People hit each other with glass bottles all the time, right? His fist wrapped around his largest Erlenmeyer flask. On his tiptoes, he inched down the stairs. 

There was a dim light that emanated from the hall. It seemed to originate from the same source as the noises: his kitchen. He avoided each squeaking floorboard as he made his way toward it. So he thought — just in the threshold, one let out a squeal. He caught sight of a pair of eyes looking at him before it went dark. He recoiled, and the flask slipped from his sweaty hands. 

He cried out in pain as shards of his precious flask pierced his skin. It was so dark — he was blind. He didn’t dare move. Warm blood ran down his ankles and into his socks. 

“Don’t hurt me!” he said. “Take what you want, just don’t go upstairs! Please.”

The light returned. He looked up to see the intruder. 

“A girl?”

A flame from the lighter in her hands lit up her eyes. Her face was dark with soot, her hair singed. On the counter next to her, a worn teddy bear lay. The pantry door was wide open, and cans of food were scattered about. 

“Are you hurt?” the girl asked in a soft voice. She looked around the room frantically.

“There’s a light switch over there,” Wilson pointed.

Willow squinted at the switch on the wall. She flipped it, and she jumped as the lights above bloomed. She shut her lighter and looked back to Wilson.

“It looks worse than it is,” he said, examining his legs. “Be careful. Don’t cut yourself.”

He carefully stepped over the glass and into the next room. He flipped another switch, and, magically, more light appeared. Willow gaped at it. Wilson went to the nearest chair and started addressing his wounds.

“Are you lost?” he asked the girl. She shrugged. “That hungry?” She nodded. “Any place to call home?” She shook her head. He figured as much.

“Here, hand me a towel. In the drawer,” he pointed. Willow scurried over and took out a thin piece of relatively clean fabric. She brought it back to him, and he tore it into makeshift bandages.

She whispered “gross” under her breath.

“Well, little girl, I have one more question for you,” Wilson smiled. “Do you like science?”


End file.
